Ling's Tattoo Parlor
by saffron-soul
Summary: Ed is a tattoo artist at his roommate's shop. When veteran Roy Mustang comes in for a tattoo to honor his late friend, the two discover that they have a lot in common, including mutual attraction. Follow the story of two dorks trying to navigate having feelings for each other. Modern AU. WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD, traumatic pasts including homelessness and sexual assault.
1. First Appointment

**(EDIT [7/9/2015]: I edited this so it's a little smoother reading and added a few small things. I would suggest re-reading if you haven't before the aforementioned date! Thank you so much for your lovely comments, or else I wouldn't have uploaded a second chapter. You are the absolute best.)**

* * *

"Ling, what do you got for me today?"

"It's pretty slow, even for you. I only have you booked for one appointment, but he wants a large piece so it will probably take at least a few hours. The guy seemed pretty nervous about it on the phone, so make sure you don't give him too much hell."

"What kind of guy do you think I am? I have a heart, you know."

Ed goes to prepare his workstation, making sure all of his inks are tidy and his equipment is clean. Then, he takes a good look in the mirror. He's gotten into the habit recently of throwing his hair into a bun rather than a ponytail; he strongly denied that it was because it gave an illusion of height, however. Out of habit, he flicked his tongue over his lip ring. Today's outfit consisted of a black, tight-fitted tank and grey skinny jeans that he had cut into knee-length shorts. Ed often wore slightly revealing clothing to show off his various tattoos; after all, one should proudly promote their own craft.

The full pieces on his right arm and left leg were his favorites. They were the longest, most brutal tattoos he has ever had, with all the detail and shading work. They were completely inked to look like bio-mechanical armor, the three-dimensional style giving the illusion of ports and wires underneath. It was an idea that his friend Winry had given him, and he just ran with it. After growing up on the streets with his little brother, he had to fight arm and leg for survival. He was made of armor, and no matter what the world threw at him, he could endure it.

"Stop checking yourself out, Ed, your customer is here," Ling calls out.

Ed immediately stands at attention, looking towards the front desk. Who he sees is incredible, a walking cliche of "tall, dark, and handsome." He's wearing a long-sleeved, dark navy t-shirt, the neckline revealing some of his collar bone, and a pair of black jeans. His charcoal black hair gives a slight hint at a passing angsty phase in his youth, but pulled off in a more sophisticated and adult way. Once he catches Ed's eye, he waves. "Hi there, are you Edward?"

 _Those eyes could cut through me if I'm not careful. What are they made of, onyx?_ "Please, just Ed. And I'm sorry, Ling didn't mention your name?"

"Roy Mustang. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiles. "Here, come sit down. Let's discuss what you want me to do for you today." _Or do_ to _you, either one is honestly fine with me._

They sit at Ed's workstation, Roy in the tattoo chair and Ed on a stool next to him with his sketch pad. "I brought a couple pictures for reference," he starts, handing them over. "I'm a veteran, and I'm getting this tattoo in honor of my best friend Maes. He unfortunately did not make it safely home."

"I'm so sorry to hear about that. Tattoos really are a great way to honor someone who has passed, to make sure they're with you forever," Ed smiles solemnly, looking at the photos. "Ah, throwing knives?"

Roy nods. "That was his favorite hobby and he was never without them. Maes's intelligence was sharper than anyone I've ever known, so I figured it would be a fitting symbol for him. I wanted to also incorporate wings, to both symbolize his passing, but also my ability to overcome."

 _Well isn't this guy a fucking poet._ "That's a beautiful idea, seriously. And where would you want this?"

"I was thinking right across my chest."

"Have you ever gotten a tattoo before? I assume you want this to be pretty big, so I'm not going to lie to you and say it won't hurt."

Roy laughs. "This will be my first tattoo, but the pain won't bother me, I can assure you."

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you! Now before I get a sketch going, I need to see the canvas so I can measure how big it will be. If you would be so kind, please remove your shirt."

"That's the most polite way I've been asked to strip, I'll tell you that," Roy laughs as he removes his shirt.

 _Oh no, he's hot. He's really hot._

"I apologize for the appearance of my scars, some of them are a bit gnarly."

"I've seen many different kinds of bodies, covered in everything imaginable. I've got some scars myself. Scar tissue is hard to tattoo, so long as there aren't any huge ones in the way of the design, we'll be just fine."

As Roy lays down, Ed puts his knees on his stool to get a better look. _No, Ed, it is not professional to lick your clients pectoral muscles._ He takes a large piece of transparent paper and spreads it across Roy's bare chest, fingers splaying outwards to smooth the paper as close as he can to get accurate measurements. "I was thinking we could go to about…" he drags his fingers to two points just below his collar bone, "…here? Is that what you had in mind?"

Roy shudders under his touch. "Yeah, that seems good."

Ed uncaps his marker with his teeth, making two marks at the designated places. "So the knife would be right between the wings, kind of like a badass butterfly. For proportions sake, I'd say…" he traces his fingers down Roy's chest, and no he isn't biting his lip on purpose, "… right here, around a hand's length long."

"I trust your opinion," Roy smirks. "I did quite a bit of searching to find this place, and everyone I asked said you were the man to see."

"Good, that means my bribes are doing some good around here," he jokes. After making a couple more marks, he lifts the paper, checks it, replaces it to make sure, and then stands up with it in hand. "It will take me about an hour to sketch an outline for you. I say given the size of this, I might suggest two sessions: one for the outline, and one for the shading. It would cost more, but I'll be able to get more detail in it with more time."

"Money isn't a concern, take as long as you need," he shrugs. _Plus, that means I get to see you again,_ Roy thinks. _God, you're cute._ He moves to put his shirt back on. "I'm going to grab some lunch and I'll be back."

"Get me a sandwich while you're at it," Ed calls as he walks out the door.

* * *

"Ed…" Roy gasps. _It's beautiful. It's more than anything I could have dreamed of._

"I know, right? I think it's pretty bad ass. I added a few flames coming up behind the knife, I hope you don't mind. I can remove it if you don't like it, but you struck me as a 'flames' kind of guy."

"No, keep it. It's amazing." He takes the paper bag in his hands and holds it up. "And I know you were mostly kidding when you said 'get me a sandwich', but I figured I'd get you one anyways."

Ed's eyes go wide. "You're fucking kidding me."

"Why would I be? I hope you like turkey club."

Ed takes the bag and opens it. Sure enough, a nicely wrapped turkey club sandwich sits inside. "You know, you don't have to butter me up to get me to do a better job. I already charge an arm and a leg for this shit."

"Just take the sandwich, call it an act of random kindness."

"You must be some kind of politician, I swear," Ed says, putting the bag in his mini fridge. "I'll eat it after we're done here, it will be my dinner. Enough chatter. Strip, Mustang."

"Oh, so I'm Mustang now, huh?" Roy chuckles, taking his shirt off and sitting back on the tattoo chair.

"Well 'Strip, Roy' sounds weird. I need more consonants to make it sound intimidating. I'm a tattoo artist, I'm supposed to be tough," Ed says, flexing his arms.

"Right, my apologies."

Ed fetches his gloves and tattoo equipment. "First thing's first: I need to shave where the tattoo will be. If you would feel emasculated with me doing it, than you can do that yourself in the bathroom."

"Masculinity is so fragile, sometimes. Do people really object to you doing that? Isn't is a part of your job?"

"You would be surprised," Ed laughs. It takes no time at all to get the job done, seeing as Roy's not necessarily wooly. He'd be lying, however, if he said he didn't draw it out to keep rubbing his hands along his skin. _It's a simple matter of admiring human anatomy, that's all._

Ed stands to Roy's side with the stencil, pressing it down and adhering the design to Roy's skin. After pealing away the paper, Ed gives Roy a mirror to inspect that everything is all set before they get started. Roy takes a deep breath, imagining the ink in its permanent place upon his chest. He nods, handing the mirror back to Ed. "Let's do it."

"If at any time you want me to take a break, just tell me when. Especially if you aren't used to it, the pain can be a bitch."

Pointing to a scar on his lower abdomen, Roy replies, "Again, I don't think the pain will be an issue for me. But I appreciate the concern."

Ed shakes his head. "Just letting you know that I won't judge you. But that is a pretty nasty scar. You'll have to tell me about it, if you feel comfortable with it, that is." Ed places his hands gently over Roy's chest positioning the gun over the stencil. He starts it without warning, and Roy can't help but curl his fists at the surprise.

"Yeah, sure. It happened overseas. There was an explosion. We were lucky to avoid the direct impact, but long pole, a piece of shrapnel, came jutting out and impaled me."

Ed grimaces. "Holy shit, and you lived?"

"Well I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Guess so," he replies. A few minutes go by as he starts to outline the throwing knife. "Would you believe me if I said that I've been impaled, too?"

"I'd either call you a liar or call our meeting fate. There's no way."

"I shit you not, take a look," he says, getting up and putting his gun down. He lifts his shirt, revealing a few more tattoos, but more visibly a large scar on his lower left abdomen.

"I'm scar twins with my tattoo artist, what a stroke of luck. May I ask how?"

Ed picks up his machine again, continuing his work. "My brother and I grew up on the streets. As a result, we didn't exactly follow the letter of the law and got ourselves in pretty precarious situations. One time, we were staying in this abandoned warehouse and I was fucking around in the rafters, being an idiot. I ended up falling and landing on a pipe. I was like an Ed-kabob, it was pretty metal. Fortunately, it was around that time that I met Ling, and he helped me with all the hospital bills. He saw my drawings and apprenticed me here. Now I'm basically serving an indentured servitude to pay off my debts."

"Christ, how old were you when this happened? You can't be more than, what, eighteen now?"

Ed stops his machine, looking at Roy. "I'm twenty-two, thank you very much."

"But you're so-"

"I would advise against calling the man that's stabbing permanent ink into your skin short. I will draw a penis on your chest."

"I was going to say 'youthful' but advice taken."

"I'm not much younger than you, asshole. What are you, thirty-something?"

"Twenty-seven," Roy grumbles. He shouldn't be offended that someone over-calculated his age, considering he works so hard on looking 'distinguished', but Ed really has dealt a blow to his ego.

Ed continues inking. "I was fifteen at the time. I've been working here now for a few years. He's really a great guy, though. He really takes care of me, I couldn't ask for a better boss."

Roy looks around, seeing if the man in question is in the vicinity. "Do you just say that for the security cameras?"

Ed smiles fondly. "I really don't. I mean it. He's probably the reason I'm alive and have a place to sleep."

For a while both of them are silent. Ed's working hard on getting his outline done as soon as possible, and Roy is working hard on not watching Ed's 'I'm concentrating' face. He furrows his brow and keeps licking at his lip ring. It's taking everything in Roy's power to hold himself in control, between the nagging pain of the tattoo, Ed's face, and Ed's fingers constantly exploring his chest. He decides that he needs to keep the conversation if he's to get out of this appointment alive. "So, what's the craziest tattoo you've ever done?"

He looks up for a second, considering. "Oh! One time, this guy came in hammered wanting me to tattoo a smiley face on the head of his dick."

Roy's eyes went wide. "And you did it?"

"Hell yeah I did. Everyone is responsible for their own decisions. If some guy named Havoc wants to come in and wreak his namesake on his body while he's intoxicated, then he is certainly entitled to do so. Especially if I get paid, it's-"

"Wait, his name was Havoc?"

"It might have been his last name, but that's what his friend kept calling him."

"Was his friend short and stout with red hair?"

"That would be him, why?"

Roy starts gut laughing so hard that Ed has to take his hand away to avoid messing up the design. "Oh my god, he would totally do something like that. Ed, you just gave me dirt for a lifetime."

"Glad I could be of service, now sit still you bastard."

"Sorry, sorry," Roy exhales, calming down. "Both of them were under my command overseas. Some of my best men. They work for me now that we're stateside."

"Wait, come again? 'Command'?"

"I'm a Colonel in the United States Military. Well, at least I was. Because of the attack that lead to that nasty scar down there, I was honorably discharged. Not that I want to go back anyways, I learned the hard way that war brings out the worst in humans."

Ed all of a sudden feels very small. This guy is important. _Really_ important. "I almost joined the military myself, just for the benefits so I could help Al with school and all. But he ended up being so smart that he got into school all on scholarships, so he didn't need my help anyways. I'm a fighter, but I don't really think I'm that kind of fighter."

"I imagine you would have to be a fighter, growing up the way you did."

"It wasn't easy," Ed confesses. "Some days I would go hungry so Al wouldn't. We have fought for everything we've had in life, but thank god it's finally paying off. Al is in school pursuing his dreams, and I have an amazing job that I'm good at and enjoy. Can't ask for more in life than that."

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. Now that I'm out of the military, though, I find myself feeling unsettled."

"You got a girlfriend?"

Roy smirks. "Why Ed, I think that's a little forward, don't you think?"

Ed's face goes red. "Penis. On your chest, Mustang."

"Even more forward. Jeez, are you like this with all of your customers?"

"What I MEANT to say, before you so rudely jumped to conclusions, is that you need to find yourself somebody to keep you company. Someone to keep you grounded now that your everyday decisions are no longer life-or-death. Someone to remind you that you're only human."

"Y-Yeah," he breathes. _Fuck, is it getting a little harder to breathe? Just stick to not talking, apparently he's cuter when he speaks._

In just under two hours, Ed has finished the main outline of Roy's tattoo. He pours solution on his chest to get away all the excess ink. _I am so glad I get another day of this, Jesus._ "So that's it for today! I would suggest maybe waiting a few days until your skin is less sensitive to do the shading. So whenever you're free later this week, give us a call and I'll finish it up for you."

"I'm free tomorrow night. How does Chinese food sound?"

Ed blanches. "Wait, wha-"

"I'm asking you out on a date, Ed, " he breathes. "I can't believe I'm doing it, but I am. I kind of just put myself out there without thinking, but now that I've said it, I stand by my decision. So, I ask again, do you like Chinese food?"

Ed's jaw hangs open. "I mean, I like food in general, so-"

"Then it's a date. When do you get off your shift?"

"Yeah! Uh-"

"Ah, Ed, glad I caught you in time." Ling appears over the wall of the adjacent work station, smiling. "I have an unexpected meeting to attend tomorrow and I'm closing the shop. So you have the day off."

"What the- what kind of meeting do you have to go to!? The annual meeting of 'Creeps Meddling into Other Peoples' Business'!?" Ed's hands are firmly at his side.

"Precisely," he nods, looking to Roy. "Pick him up here at six. He lives in the apartment above the parlor. When you're done discussing details with Ed, come to the desk so I can show you proper tattoo care while he cleans his station."

As Ling disappears behind the wall again, Roy stares amusedly at Ed's stuttering, red-faced expression. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You know, you don't get free service for this, right?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Ed."

"Then fine," he smirks. "It's a date."


	2. First Date: Part I

**(If you are getting a notification about a chapter update, GO BACK TO CHAPTER 1! I finally edited it and added a few things so it would work better with this one, so please read it! More Author's Notes at the end.)**

* * *

Ed is staring in the mirror not knowing what to do with himself. _How do I put my hair up? Which shirt do I wear? He's not expecting me to dress fancy, right? Oh god, I'm totally going to fuck this up._

"Ling, I fucking hate you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just text me to let me know if you'll be coming back here tonight. And with or without a guest."

"You're the worst. I am completely unprepared for this. I don't _do_ dates, you know that." He fusses over the shirts in his closet. "What the hell do I wear!?"

Ling groans in the kitchen. He's heard his roommate bitch about his outfit choice for over an hour. "Black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, your red vest, and black jeans. Your butt will look good, and red is your favorite color."

"Hey, you had your piece of my ass. That sounded an awful lot like a flirtation," Ed jokes. They both knew that what they had was long over, but it was always fun to tease. It turns out that Ling had a point, though. Once Ed put on the outfit, he was startled that he looked so good. _Hair in a bun, definitely,_ he thinks. Picking up his silver pocketwatch, he inspects it before chaining it to his belt loop and placing the time piece in his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm himself down. _People do dates, Ed. This is a normal thing. This is probably the least difficult thing you've ever done in your life._

"If I knew you were going to freak out this much over one date, I never would have- scratch that, I still would have intervened," Ling laughs.

Ed turns around to see Ling leaning against the door frame. "Why did you intervene? I mean, we would have worked something out between us, but-"

"No, you would have said 'Let me get back to you on that!' and left it before it started. Roy's cute, and you deserve to have some fun. Stop punishing yourself."

"I'm not-"

Ling glares.

"Okay, fine. I'm pissed at you, but if this goes well I will thank you," he says, fixing his shirt.

Within minutes, there's a buzz at their intercom. Ling and Ed race to the console to answer it; Ed gets there first. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Roy. I'm downstairs."

"I'll be there in a second!" Ed searches the kitchen quickly, spots his wallet, and then runs out the door, slamming it on his way out.

Shaking his head, Ling moves to make himself a drink. _Why do I live with and employ this fucking nerd, I swear to god. I wonder if Lan Fan wants to come over tonight…_

* * *

"Hey! Sorry, hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"I actually just got here. I'm surprised you came downstairs so fast," Roy replies, rubbing the back of his head.

Ed pauses. "Uhm, you look really nice," he admits, admiring the simple aesthetic of his grey sweater and black pants. To be fair, the guy could probably wear anything and still look gorgeous. _Piece of shit hot person._

"Thanks, but I think you have me beat. You look…," Roy begins, eyeing him up and down, shyness evaporating, "absolutely exquisite."

 _Oh no, he uses big words._ Ed feels his heart flutter.

"So," Roy begins, "I was thinking we could go to Lee's down the road. It's actually pretty close, and the weather is fair, so how about we walk?"

"Fine with me." Sticking his hands into his pockets, Ed falls in stride of his date. "So, is the design sticking? Tell me honestly."

"I really do love it. I'm very excited to get it shaded. Maes would really appreciate it."

"I'm glad. It is a really good concept, and the design came out great. I'm going to shade the blade in a way that makes it look three-dimensional; it's going to look fantastic once it's all finished."

"That's going to be really amazing, thank you. And by the way, I like that little flame detail. It's a nice touch, and surprisingly fitting. What did you mean by 'you struck me as a flames kind of guy?'"

What Ed wants to say and what he actually says are very different. What he wants to say is, " _If I were to go on the saying 'eyes are the windows to the soul,' I would have to guess that you're empty inside because I've never seen eyes as dark as yours. But I knew from the second you opened your mouth that there was fire behind the coals._ "

What he actually says is, "I thought you were hot. I didn't really think too much about it."

Roy can't tell if this is a lie or not, but he takes the compliment. "Fair enough." They walk a little farther. "I've always been intrigued by fire."

 _A flamer who likes flames. There's a joke in there somewhere._

He continues: "It's so hard to understand. It's destructive and it burns people. But it's also warm, comforting, life-giving. Fire is beautiful."

 _I must stop him talking about this shit because he's being poetic and passionate again and I don't deal with that well. So let's talk about food._ "So, this place we're going to. Is it super fancy or a complete dive?"

Though slightly unanticipated, the change in conversation doesn't really bother Roy; he tends to get carried away in his own thoughts, anyways. "Right. Uh, it's pretty much in the middle. It's like the Olive Garden of Chinese food. It's a pretty standard first date location."

"Cool. I'm warning you now that apparently everyone thinks my table manners are shit. I have no idea what they're talking about, I think I act just fine. But my brother thinks I'm some sort of animal."

He should be bothered by this; Roy has spent most of his life perfecting the finer delicacies of human interaction and manners. But for some reason, the idea of Ed being a complete slob doesn't repulse him. He finds the thought actually endearing. "That's fine by me," he says as they walk up to the restaurant in question.

Roy takes the liberty of asking the hostess for a table. When they're seated, Roy notices that Ed seems incredibly on edge; he can't stop playing with his lip ring, which Roy finds incredibly alluring. "Hey, relax a little bit. This is a date, not an interview."

"Sorry, I'm just not used to this at all."

"This?"

"Dates. I don't know, I usually don't do them," he murmurs. When he looks up, he sees that Roy looks uneasy. _Oh no, I hurt his feelings. I already fucked up_. "Not that I'm not happy to be here! No, no I'm really happy you asked me here. I'm just, I'm nervous, okay?"

"Don't worry about it, seriously," Roy assures. "I don't get it. You're extremely good looking. How is it that you don't do dates?"

"Most people tend to want to skip straight to the 'bed' part and leave it at that. I guess I've just become used to it, is all," Ed says, eyes diverting away from him.

And at this moment, Roy feels a tinge of sadness. He knows an expression of guarded hurt, and it's written in his eyes. _God, who would ever hurt you?_

They are interrupted by their waitress taking their drink orders. She leaves and returns quickly with two waters.

"Well, that's not how I want to take this. You fascinate me, and I want to learn more about you," Roy says, taking a sip. "If you only said yes just to get me into bed, we can leave right now and get it over with. I'll get my tattoo finished by you and that will be it. But I invited you out with me tonight to see if I can figure you out, even just a little."

He looks up, amusement playing on his features. "Figure me out?"

And Roy bites his lip. "Well, you remind me of fire, after all."

Another heart flutter. _Fuck._ Ed scoffs. "Do you practice what you say in the mirror? I swear, this charm thing you have going on is on another level."

"Sometimes, if the mood strikes me."

"Amazing," Ed laughs. "So, what's up?"

"…What's up?" Roy asks incredulously.

Ed groans in frustration. "What's new? What's going on in your life right now? Anything exciting happen recently?"

 _I'll take 'Hard to Read' for eight hundred, Alex._ "Well, I just got my application back for getting a service dog, I'm pretty excited. His name is Tank. He's going to be a very welcome addition to my apartment, that will be for sure."

"Tank. I see what you did there."

"I thought it was a clever name. He's a grey pitbull, and he's currently the size of my microwave."

"My brother Al is a cat person, he has three right now. Dogs are far superior, in my opinion. I'm glad your application went through," Ed smiles.

Smirking, Roy counters, "Most people I tell that too get uncomfortable, yet you show no sign of it. That was a test."

Ed shrugs. "People go through traumatic shit, and sometimes they need the assistance of a well-trained dog. There's no shame in needing help with something. People have prosthetics, glasses, canes. People also have service dogs. All are tools to assist someone when they need it."

"So you're not bothered by me having PTSD?"

"Not if you're not by mine. Speaking of which, don't ask about my family unless I broach the subject first."

"Duly noted," Roy sips. _So he doesn't think I'm broken. This is going better than I expected._

Again, they are interrupted by the waitress, this time asking for their order. Ed panics and realizes that he never looked at the menu. "I'll have whatever he's having."

Roy smiles, asking the waitress for the special. She collects their menus and walks away. "The food is always good here; I tend to trust whatever they send to my table."

"What, do you take all of your dates here?" Ed accuses.

"No, actually. My friends and I usually come here when we have mutual days off."

"Where do you work?"

"I own a bar. I'm not sure if you're familiar with 'Mustang's'?"

Ed nearly spits out his drink. "You're fucking kidding me, right?" Roy laughs. "Jeez, it's hard to find a name in my little black book that I didn't meet there. I'm surprised we haven't met before."

"In the very beginning I spent more time on the floor. After coming back from service, though, I've been letting my business partner Riza keep an eye on it at night. I mostly take care of it during the day, filling out orders and paperwork. But yeah, that's my work."

Nodding, Ed smiles. "So I'm on a date with the one and only Mustang. Incredible. And I thought the name of the bar was made up. I didn't know there was an actual person with the name. That's some kind of sick joke."

"The real joke is that it was my mother's business before it was mine."

Roy wishes he could capture on film the way Edward Elric laughs, but no medium would be able to do it with justice. It's a deep-rooted laughter that makes his body shake and is far too loud, causing other customers glance their way. Whereas he would expect someone to be embarrassed by a sudden outburst of loud laughter, Ed takes it in stride. "That is the funniest thing I have ever heard, holy shit," he continues to chuckle as he settles down. Roy can feel his heart warming and his gut whispering to him, _This guy is special._

"So, you live above the tattoo parlor?"

"Yeah, Ling and I stay up there."

"You and Ling are awfully close," Roy observes. "Should I be concerned?"

"Well, we used to have a thing, but that's long since over. We only ever really get along as good friends. He's been dating this girl Lan Fan for a while, and they're pretty serious."

"That's actually pretty similar to the relationship between Riza and I. We tried to be something, but we found that we were at our best when we were just close friends and business partners. Sometimes you need to go through that with someone you're that close with."

Ed looks like he's about to say something else, but his eye is caught by the tray of food that is making its way to their table. Before the waitress has even left them alone, Ed shoves three dumplings into his mouth, followed by shovelfuls of rice. He wasn't kidding when he said he liked food.

"Why Ed, I had no idea humans had jaws capable of unhinging to accommodate large quantities of food."

"It also works with large quantities of dick," Ed replies. He only realizes what he's said when it's too late. He stares off into the distance with half a dumpling hanging out of his mouth.

And there's really nothing Roy can say in response to that. There is nothing he can present as a follow up. He is completely floored, completely overtaken by this foul-mouthed, poor-mannered, well-dressed, tattooed, handsome, golden stranger. _This is real life, and this is happening. And I think I finally know what 'love at first sight' feels like. This is it._

Ed, on the other hand, is still trying to process reality, apparently by thinking out loud. "So I actually just said that and I don't know how I feel about it."

"So, I think I'm free this Thursday for the shading appointment," Roy starts. He can see Ed's countenance lower, knowing that he is thinking the worst. "Should our second date be before or after our next appointment?"

As Ed's mouth hangs open, the other half of the dumpling falls out.

* * *

 **(I just wanted to say thank you again to everyone who gave me positive feedback on this story. This started out as a drunken RoyEd week oneshot and I honestly wasn't sure if I was going to continue it. But thanks to your lovely responses, I think i might expand this! It probably will only be a couple more chapters [at least one of them with a more Mature rating, I promise you], but regardless this story is not yet done. I haven't written in a very long time, and it feels great knowing that there are people that still like what I'm doing! You make this girl happy.**

 **Prepare yourselves for even more awkward dialogue and idiot dorks falling in love in a tattoo shop. Enjoy!)**


	3. First Date: Part II

**(A/N: So I wanted to make this longer to further the plot but honestly I feel like this scene can stand alone. I didn't want to force anything just to get the word count higher. I probably should have just added this to the last chapter, but whatever.**

 **ALSO, all of my stories including this one [and one that's very nsfw] are on AO3, linked on my FFnet profile. This story will eventually have explicit content which FFnet does not allow, so I will post explicit content on AO3 and not here to comply; an abbreviated version will be posted here while I direct you to my FFnet profile for the link to the corresponding nsfw chapters.**

 **Again, I thank you all for your incredible feedback and love for this story! It really drives me to push forward and keep providing more content for you. You guys are the best.**

 **Check out my FFnet profile for a link to tumblr user mamaxeph's fanart of tattooartist!Ed that she made for me to inspire this fic! It's really wonderful and I love it so much. Any other fanart made for this fic will be linked on my FFnet profile.)**

* * *

Roy walks Ed to the door leading up to his apartment. "I had a really great time tonight," Roy smiles.

"Me too, actually," Ed replies. He's finding it really hard to look his date in the eye. _Wow, look at that interesting crack in the sidewalk!_

"Listen," Roy assures, "I know you don't do 'date stuff' all that often. I get it. But I think you underestimate yourself. You're a really great person to be around, you know. You're incredibly intelligent, you're creative, you're handsome, you're funny…"

"If you're trying to get me into bed, stroking my ego is not the way to go."

"You're also surprisingly deep when you let your guard down for a second."

"My 'fight me' instincts are screaming at me right now," Ed warns.

Roy sighs. "Okay, okay. I'll stop complimenting you. I promise."

"Good. I got this whole 'self loathing' thing I've been working on for a while and I don't want you to mess up my image." Ed sticks his hands in his pockets.

Taking a moment to look at Ed, Roy can't figure out how to proceed. He's only had one date with the guy, and yet he feels so invested into what his story is. He can laugh without embarrassment at the top of his lungs in a crowded room, but as soon as you point out anything good about him he builds a wall. _Why can't Ed see just how amazing he is?_ Roy thinks. _I know that it's hard to like yourself, but why does he have such resentment?_

Ed meets his eyes. "Okay, so you're going to kiss me now, right?"

He is caught off his guard. "Uhm, well-"

"Wait, I changed my mind. I want to kiss you instead," Ed asserts.

 _I cannot take a full breath without him changing direction in between._ "I don't really think there's much of a difference, as long as kissing is occurring."

This elicits a side-eye from the blond. "Wait, you don't think there's a difference?"

And to this Roy becomes confused. "Kissing is a mutual action. Both people have to be kissing to make it a thing."

Ed groans. "Okay, it's time for an experiment. First, I'm going to kiss you. Then, you're going to kiss me. We can compare the results."

"But all good experiments need a control," Roy argues. "So maybe we both kiss _each other_ for the last one."

"I like the way you think, Mustang," Ed smirks.

And before Roy knows it, Ed has his fist in his hair and is dragging him down to meet his lips. The feeling is harsh, but it's so very like the man his lips are pressed against. His eyebrows furrow upwards, and his chest tightens as Ed moves closer. When he opens his lips in an invitation, the kiss changes to something more tender that makes Roy's mind go fuzzy. Ed releases him slowly, staying within a breath's distance for a moment to let the electricity propagate, and then finally backs away.

When Ed observes his handiwork, he sees that Roy's eyes are still closed, lips searching for something that has already vanished. Ed stands with his arms crossed, looking smugly at his date. "Your turn, big shot."

And then, Roy's eyes open and focus on his. As Roy approaches him, takes his jaw in his hand, and carefully brings him closer, Ed feels lightheaded. Their lips overlap perfectly in a gentle kiss. He can feel Roy's thumb rub against his cheek. It's too delicate, too light to make Ed feel like he's anywhere but the clouds. When Roy finally deepens the kiss, desire quakes in Ed's gut, pulling him straight back to earth and right into Roy's embrace.

This time, it's Roy that looks smug when he steps back.

Before Ed has a chance to recover, they both decide to commence the control. They meet in the middle, both hungry for more of the taste that they've been given. As Ed backs up against the brick wall of the building, Roy pushes, placing both hands at the sides of the man he's wanted all night. The touch burns down Ed's body, making him moan. And Ed wants to take it further. God, he wants to take it further. But he sees a crack in one of the walls he has built around himself, a small chink that lets him see through to the other side. Enough light shines through to make Ed start to grin against the lips of a man who could take the whole thing down.

Soon, they're both fighting their smiles in between quick kisses against the wall. In any other situation, Ed would want to find something wrong, something to fault so he could distance himself from this. But he can't be bothered right now because he's just too damn happy. He's kissing someone he's just met as if he's been kissing him for years. He feels warm, wanted, and good about himself, not because he's getting romantic attention but because he is finally letting himself accept it.

When they both can't stop smiling anymore, they pull away, leaning their foreheads together. Roy's hands play at Ed's waist. "So I'll see you Thursday?"

Ed laughs, "Yes, you will see me Thursday."

"And will I see you Saturday evening as well?"

"Yes," he answers, kissing Roy again. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Roy mumbles against his lips.

It's Ed that has to pull away finally because Roy seems to have lost all of his willpower. When Ed unlocks the door, he turns around and gives Roy a small wave before stepping inside and running up the stairs.

* * *

When he walks into his apartment and closes the door behind him, he leans against the door and smiles.

Ling walks in to the kitchen in his bathrobe. "That good, huh?"

When Ed realizes that he's smiling, he covers his face with his hands, groans, and slides all the way down the door. "Do not say a fucking word."

"You _like_ him, don't you Ed?'

"Ling, I swear to God," he warns.

"And you didn't even take him home. This guy must be special."

"Shut up, or I will tell Lan Fan that you had a Brony phase."

"You wouldn't dare."

* * *

That night, Roy dreams of warmth instead of fire.


	4. Interlude: Ed's Past

**WARNING:** This chapter includes **triggering content** including: _homelessness, rape (not explicit), sex trafficking, and panic attacks_. As such, I have increased the rating of this fic. If you are uncomfortable with any of this content, you can message me and I can give you a safer summary. However, these themes will be present throughout the rest of the story, so if they are truly troubling to you there are no hard feelings if you decide to stop reading!

Thanks to tumblr user yuunishynoya for becoming my new beta!

When I first started this fic, I had no intention for bringing it to this level. But as I looked up more about homeless youth, I felt a compulsion to tell Ed's story. This happens to homeless youth on staggering levels. Please visit NationalHomeless for more information on how you can help families and youth, especially lgbtq youth, that are homeless. They need more access to friendly and safe resources so they can stay in school, receive proper housing and health care, and have proper protection from the government.

And I hate to put this here, because I feel like it distracts from the issue mentioned above, but it's within the same realm of thought. My mom, the sole income maker of my family, got into a bad accident and is out of work for the next month. We currently have $400 dollars to our name and we have to pay rent and bills. Therefore, I am opening fanfiction commissions. We are not in danger of becoming homeless ourselves, but we need money for food. PM me here or on tumblr for more information.

* * *

When Ed wakes up the next morning, he's still smiling.

In fact, Al can hear it in his voice when Ed answers the phone. "Hello?"

" _Someone sounds cheery this morning. What's wrong?"_

"Must you assume that something is wrong? Am I not allowed to be happy?"

" _I always want you to be happy. But because it's a rare emotion for you, I want to know the cause,"_ Al laughs.

Ed rolls his eyes. His brother does have a point. On good days, Ed's usually still a miserable fuck. "Did you call me for a reason other than to harass me about my emotions?"

" _Right, sorry. So I was thinking I would come visit this weekend! Would that be okay?"_

"Sure thing! When do you want me to pick you- oh shit."

" _What?"_

Ed scratches his head, fingers momentarily getting knotted in his hair. "Uhm, I have something planned for Saturday night. But I can move it. I'll talk to him today and see if we can reschedule."

" _What is it?_ "

Ed sighs. "I had a date planned, but I can see if he wants to do Friday night instead."

" _Ed, that's really not necessary. Please don't-"_

"If you're visiting, you are my priority. End of story. I'm rescheduling."

" _Is this a real date or a, you know, date? Who is he?"_

"His name is Roy, and yes it's a real date. We met at the tattoo shop when I was doing a chest piece for him the day before last, which I'm actually finishing up tomorrow. We went on our first date last night, and…" Ed's face turns red, "…n-now we're going to have a second one."

" _Ed, are you serious?"_

"Fuck off, Al."

" _And by the end of this week, you will have seen him four times?"_

Ed makes a face. "What of it!?"

" _Ed, please don't get upset. I am so, so happy for you. This is… it's a really big step for you, is all I'm saying."_

He groans. "It isn't that big of a deal, Al! So I'm going on a second date with this guy. So I'm in a better mood than my normal grouchy self. There's no need for a fucking parade."

" _I'm sorry, I'll drop the subject. But if he says he can't reschedule for Friday, then keep the date for Saturday night. I have homework I need to do anyways so-"_

Rubbing his forehead, he exhales. "No, Al. If he can't reschedule for Friday, we will go another time. Look at the bus schedules and see what time I have to pick you up from the station on Saturday."

Al sighs. His brother is hopeless.

* * *

Usually after talking to Al, Ed feels better. But now, his skin itches and he feels like he needs to be out of the house. He has a few hours to kill before his shift starts, so he decides to take a walk. A few blocks north, there's a park he likes to frequent when he's feeling down. The city doesn't offer much else in terms of greenery, and the fresh air helps him calm his mind.

He visits a hot dog stand at the entrance to the park. "Mr. Gorilla, how's it going?"

Darius shakes his head. "I told you to stop calling me that, kid."

"And I told you to stop calling me kid. I'm a grown ass man. Now make me some food, I haven't eaten anything yet."

He laughs. "Sure thing. But I don't think a couple of hot dogs will make you grow any, at least not enough for me to stop calling you 'kid'."

Curling his fists, he shouts, "Who you callin' short, you oversized zoo animal!?"

As Darius prepare's Ed's usual, two hot dogs with everything on them, he smiles. Even though he has a funny way of showing it, Ed really is a caring guy. He stops by the stand any time he's in the park and makes it a point to have a conversation with him. Even though they frequently shout and insult each other, Ed always leaves with a smile and a good tip.

He knows that Ed comes here when he's troubled; he has that same look that all the other lonely people who wander the shady paths have. At least when Ed shows up to his stand, he gets to rile him up to get some life back into his eyes. "I'm charging you double for being a pain in my ass," he says, handing over the food.

"And what if I steal these? Will you _arrest_ me?" Ed smirks.

"Very funny, Elric."

Despite his threat, Ed as he always does, tips the man generously. "If you didn't have the best dogs in this damn city, I'd kick your ass for the shit you get away with saying to me. I'll see you later, Gorilla Man."

"Later, shorty."

As Ed walks away, Darius wipes his brow. _That kid's too smart for his own good,_ he thinks, touching the badge he has hidden in his pocket.

* * *

Walking down the path, Ed chooses to sit on a bench overlooking the small pond in the center of the park with the idea that the water would calm him.

After his conversation with Al, however, he can't seem to shake the words, " _It's a really big step for you, is all I'm saying."_

It's been so long since he's really given thought to what had happened to him. Of course, every day he feels negative emotions tied to his traumatic past. But he doesn't let himself delve into the more graphic parts of his memory because the end result is never good.

 _A big step for me? He acts like I'm the one that needs protecting. I'm the older brother, so I'm the one who does the worrying around here. Besides, what is there to protect me from? My own emotional constipation? It's not my fault that I was-_

Ed starts to feel nauseous.

 _Yes. Yes it is,_ a small voice whispers. _It was your fault because you let it happen._

He eats his food, trying to fill the hollow space he suddenly feels in his gut.

* * *

The worst part about living on the streets wasn't the circumstance itself. Al was notorious for charming restaurant staff so that they could get leftover scraps at the end of the day; they never had enough to be full, but they survived. Ed would spin breaking into abandoned apartments or warehouses as adventures to keep their spirits up. During the weekends, they would wait in line for a spot at a shelter. On lucky nights, they were invited to sleepovers by friends they made at school; that meant a bed and food. They played their naturally gifted charisma like old pros.

Some of the bad parts would be the memories. On nights that they couldn't find a roof to sleep under, on nights that they slept under a tarp in an alley, while Ed stayed awake to protect his sleeping brother, he would replay it all. Their father leaving them when he was four; their mother passing away when he was ten; the foster care system trying to separate him and his brother and Ed fighting to the end of his wits to keep them together; their decision to run away. Those were bad, but not the worst.

No, the worst part was the people. Some people were genuinely nice to them and helped them out. But the bad outweighed the good. There are disgusting people in the world that would do anything to take advantage of a young boy in need.

* * *

When Ed turned fourteen, things started getting rougher for them. While they were still enrolled in school, Al, who used to excel, was falling behind. If all of their time was spent looking for meals and safe places to sleep, he couldn't keep up with his homework. Ed wouldn't let Al squander his education because out of the two of them, he was convinced Al would be the one to get out of this mess and do something with his life. After talking to some other homeless kids like them, Ed developed a strategy to help keep him and his brother afloat.

He began trading sex for accommodations. There was a man in the city that owned small apartments that he would lend to youths in return for their bodies. Ed only had one condition: that his brother never participated in or learned of the method of payment. After school, Ed would "go to work for the guy downstairs" while Al studied. Ed would return late with dinner, usually something he found in a dumpster behind a restaurant.

Al would say, "Brother, you have to take it easier at work! You're always in pain."

"No pain, no gain, right Al? It's not hard work, really. Besides, it pays enough for this place so you should be grateful."

"I'm sorry, Brother. You're right."

Most nights, Ed cried himself to sleep, dreading what the next day would bring.

Ed suffered like this for months, selling his body so that his brother had a warm place to sleep. Al's grades improved greatly now that he had a steady schedule. And as long as Al was happier, Ed didn't dare stop.

Mostly, it was the same guy every night, the one who paid for the apartment. Sometimes, though, he would invite his friends. Those were always the worst nights.

Their last night in that apartment was the night when one of the owner's friends followed Ed back upstairs. Smashing the door in, he cornered Ed into the kitchen and pulled out a knife. threatening that he would kill him if he didn't do what he wanted. When Alphonse heard the commotion, he went to the kitchen and saw Ed being raped against the counter.

Before the man had noticed he was there, Al grabbed his blade that he kept with him at all times and sliced at his right Achilles.

As the injured man fell backwards, screaming in pain, he pulled Ed down with him. Ed screamed, trying in a futile effort to escape his grasp. _Where is the knife!? Where is it!? Oh God, he's going to kill me._ Just then, Al charged forward with his own knife and held it to the man's throat; the attacker released Ed.

"Ed! Get up! He can't run after us!"

Ed barely managed to crawl to safety. He was too weak, too paralyzed with fear to move. Al dragged him by the arm out the door to get away as fast as possible. After hauling Ed's pants back up, Al carried his brother on his back out of the apartment because he was unable to stand on his own. The whole time, Ed kept crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Al. I'm sorry…"

That night, they hid behind some boxes in an alley, crying and holding each other.

Days later, they found out through the grapevine that the man that had owned the apartment fled town after Ed's rapist was found shot to death on the kitchen floor.

* * *

After a couple hours of trying to calm himself by throwing rocks into the water, he figures he might as well suck it up, go home, and get ready for work. He's been on edge since Al's phone call this morning, and the warm water of his shower strangely does nothing to quench the pit that still resides in his stomach.

When he gets downstairs to the shop, he asks Ling about Al. "He wants to stay for the weekend. Do you still have that extra futon in your room?"

"Yeah, we can set it up in the living room for him. And by we, I mean you."

"Fine with me. Is my three o'clock here?"

"Yep; she's in the green shirt behind you."

When Ed turns around, he sees a young woman probably around the same age as himself. She has long brown hair with pink bangs, warm skin, and a friendly smile.

Ed picks up his sketchbook from the front desk and approaches her, sitting down next to her. "Hi, my name is Ed. I'll be your tattoo artist for today."

"Rose," she greets, shaking his hand.

"Alright, so what are we having today?"

"I have this idea for a tattoo that might seem strange, but I've been thinking about it for months and know it's right for me."

"Don't tell me. You want a giant rose on your face," Ed jokes.

"What would happen if I told you yes?"

"I would high five you because my guess was correct" he laughs. But then he gives a look of worry. "Please don't let me be correct."

"No high fives for you. I want the word 'Enough' right here," she says, pointing to an area just above her right breast. "But I want it backwards, so that you can only read it correctly in the mirror."

Ed's eyebrows lift. He's impressed. "I've never done a tattoo like that before, but I have to say that sounds like a really cool idea! Are you thinking all black?"

"Yes."

"For the placement, I might suggest we size the lettering to about three inches long in total. Are you looking for it to be more readable, or more decorative?"

"Readable, definitely."

Flipping to one of the first pages in his sketchbook, he finds one of his font reference pages. "I think something like this would be nice. It's very readable. The lines aren't too thick and bulky or too decorated, but it does have that 'script' style."

Rose smiles. "Yes! That sounds great!"

"Excellent! If you just give me a few minutes, I'm going to sketch something out for you and we'll go from there. Sit tight for a bit."

They give each other a nod before Ed heads off to the back room. The font that he chose is common, so it doesn't take long for him to write out the text. He first writes it as if it were normal text. Then, he scans the image onto the work computer, flips it, and prints it out again. Before reemerging from the back room, he holds the sketch up to a mirror to make sure that it came out the right way.

When he comes back, Rose is patiently waiting. "Alright, I have the design for you right here. Let's go to a mirror so you can see how it looks properly."

As he escorts her to a mirror, he holds out the paper so that she can see it first as others would see it, and then in the mirror as she would see it. "Oh God, it's beautiful! This is exactly what I wanted."

Ed observes her face to detect any hint of dishonesty; he does this with every client to make sure that they truly like the design before he gets the stencil on. But he can see in her eyes that she feels really good about it. "Do we have a winner?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

Ed feels too worked up to engage in typical conversation about the tattoo's meaning; after all, the word 'Enough' has a heavy connotation as it is, and it's probably a sensitive topic. About a half hour later, after light conversation about the weather and current events, the tattoo is finished. Ed leads her to a mirror again. "I think you're really going to like this, Rose."

As she looks in the mirror, her hands fly up to her mouth and she starts to cry.

Ed is immediately worried that something is wrong. "Are you okay?"

She nods her head up and down. "Every day for the past two years, I've been looking in the mirror and hating myself. I've been wondering what was wrong with me, why I'm so disgusted with myself. It took me a while to realize that it wasn't me," she cries, "It was him."

Ed freezes.

"I'm not the disgusting one. _He_ is. And now I get a permanent reminder when I look at myself that I have taken enough, that I'm through with putting myself down for someone else's actions. But also, I _am_ enough. I am worth it. I am worth the fight _every day_ to accept myself and finally be happy. I have two good legs, and I need to use them to move forward."

When Rose turns to hug him, Ed is still tense, but he obliges her.

"Thank you, Ed. Thank you."

* * *

Shortly after, Ed excuses himself from the parlor floor and goes to the restroom. Hands clutching the sink, he forces himself to look. He doesn't look at his hair, his lip ring, or his tattoos. He looks at himself. Who he sees is the same scared-to-death fourteen year old that was violated in the worst ways possible in the name of survival. He sees the trembling shell of armor that he's put up for all these years, fissures in the metal starting to show.

 _It was your fault because you let it happen. You knew you were worthless anyways unless you were some guy's fuck-thing. And you've kept that mindset for your entire life since that point, having sex with any guy that so much as glances at you because that's how you think you're valuable to the world. You're nothing more than a tool, a bag of meat and bones to be used and tossed to the side. You don't mean anything and-_

"No!" he screams back _._

As he screams and stares back into his reflection, retaliating against himself, he knows more and more that the voice in his head that has been terrorizing him since before puberty is wrong. He still sees a terrified fourteen year old in the mirror, but he also sees the eyes that he wore to protect Al in his sleep when they were shivering under a tarp in a dark alley. He sees fire in his eyes, a small but sure fire that hasn't been there for the greater part of a decade. He sees life in his eyes for the first time since his assault.

No, rape. _Rapes_. Multiple.

Even thinking about the word makes Ed start to sob. He's never said it out loud before. Alphonse had seen what happened, so he never needed to explain it. Ling and Winry knew the basic details based on what Al had told them. But he had never actually said it out loud. Because saying it out loud would finally put the blame on someone else.

And he wants to say it so badly because maybe it will lift the weight that has been sitting on his chest for so long. Maybe that's what Rose felt, the crushing weight of self-loathing eating away at her before she finally decided to reclaim that space as her own. He wants to say it. He wants to be strong like Rose.

He ends up on the ground shaking and sobbing, trying hard to control his breathing. Someone knocks on the door, but he doesn't have the strength or awareness to stop them from entering. Thankfully, it's Ling.

"Ed! Ed, what happened!?"

All Ed can do is cry; it's been more than seven years since he's cried in front of anyone.

"Shh, shh come here," Ling says, getting to his level and reaching out. Ed takes the opportunity and latches on, holding his friend close.

Another flood of tears hits him, the weight crushing his chest more. He has to say it or he feels like he's going to die. Trying to get the words out, he stammers and heaves.

"I-I was raped," he admits. "He fucking raped me, they all did. An-And it wasn't-," he chokes.

Ling pets his hair, stroking his hands down his neck to sooth him. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault, Ed."

"It wasn't my fault. I was fucking fourteen, and.."

"I know, Ed, I know."

"Oh God," Ed sobs, leaning into Ling's embrace. He feels something inside of him burst, like coming up for a first gulp of air after almost drowning. It hurts, and all he can think about is trying to get enough air into his tumid lungs. But he's not drowning anymore, and he's so grateful for every painful breath because he's alive and he's safe.

Ling doesn't know what to do except hold him tighter. His heart breaks after each pained sob, each stuttered breath.

And Ed is so relieved that he has his friend because it reminds him of all the good things that have happened to him since he was fourteen. He and his brother got off the street. He met his best friend Ling. He reconnected with Winry after years of separation. His brother, whom he fought for every day of his life, is in college learning to become a doctor. He even found a job that became his passion.

As Ed sits on the ground with Ling, sobbing into his shoulder, he realizes something.

He knows he's never going to be free of everything from his trauma. It's going to stay with him for the rest of his life, just like it will stay with Rose. But even with that burden, he knows that he's going to be okay.

 _I'm not broken. I don't need to hide behind all of these walls, because in my life there are going to be people like Al and Ling that will love me regardless of what happened to me. It wasn't my fault that Dad left. It wasn't my fault that Mom got sick. It wasn't my fault that I was fourteen and couldn't think of any other way to survive because I was a fucking child. I won't let them take anymore than they already have._

 _Maybe -_

 _Just maybe -_

 _I'm enough, too._


	5. Second Appointment

A/N: Wow, hi everyone. So do you want to hear the excuse for why I was demotivated to continue this story? I fact-checked something too late and got completely discouraged. The timeline is off for doing line work and shading in separate appointments; they either have to be done during the same session or much farther apart to let the skin heal. That literally put me off updating this for so long.

Well, it's summer and I felt like putting a chapter up. Thank you so much to everyone who has given this story love. It amazes me that I'm still getting notifications that people are favoriting/ giving kudos/ commenting/ following, etc. It's really cool that you guys are still interested in this story!

Quick note on where this is going: I know it got a little dark last chapter, but I don't think it will ever really go to that place again. It will be referenced if only to speak to Ed's state of mind/ character development, but this story is about finding self-indulgent, real, no-holds love. Let's carry on to that end, yes?

Also PS, I no longer have a tumblr. If you wish to contact me in any way, feel free to do so via PM. Enjoy!

When Ed wakes up the next morning, he feels drained. Emotional breakdowns take their toll, and right now Ed is paying his. While he feels better, having finally unpacked some of his baggage that has been holding him back for so long, the aftermath of the process makes his head hurt.

Ling insists over breakfast that Ed reschedules his appointment with Roy and takes the next day off. "Everything is still too fresh right now. You have to give it more time before you run yourself into a wall. Roy will understand."

"Ling, you know me. I can't sit still. I've done enough moping, and I'm not letting this rob me of one more day." Ed knows that he needs the routine of the shop to keep him from crumbling. His soul is sore, and it feels as if it had been taken from his body and shaken. The best way to get it back was to put himself wholly into his work. He needs to immerse himself into his art, to feel the life that it gives him to create.

"Are you sure? I know how you can power through stuff, but-"

"Right, so there won't be an issue." Before Ling can say anything else, Ed gets up and cleans his dish, ending the conversation.

When Roy comes in the shop, however, Ed doesn't anticipate how cold he feels. It's as if he is experiencing the present in black and white. Ed smiles and greets him in the cordial way he always greets his customers, but he doesn't feel the warmth of the affectionate outing from earlier in the week. Though he notices Roy's hesitation at his unsettling calm, he can't switch out of it. Ed's on autopilot, and he doesn't know how to take the wheel again.

Roy follows him to the station. "So today's the big day, huh? Going to color this all in?"

"That's the goal," Ed murmurs as he finalizes his set up, prepping his dyes and needles. "Have you been taking care of the tattoo? Keeping it moisturized?"

Something in the air feels wrong to Roy. It's thicker than it was just a few days ago. He takes a moment to consider himself. _Did I do anything to make him upset?_ "Yes. I followed all of Ling's instructions."

Flashing an empty smile, Ed moves his stool closer and sits down. "Good. We should get started then. If you wouldn't mind…?"

It takes Roy a moment, but then he remembers to take off his shirt. On his way to the shop, he had planned to embarrass Ed by making it some big show. But now, Roy knows that it wouldn't be well-received. He settles into the chair, unsure of what to say or do.

After taking a moment to reacquaint himself with his work, Ed dips his gun into the orange ink. He stares at it for a moment, contemplating the pigment. Then, his stare finds its way to Roy, who clearly looks uncomfortable. "This isn't fair," he mutters, putting his gun down on the tray.

Roy furrows his brows. "Come again?"

With a sigh, Ed continues. "Listen, I apologize for the way I'm acting right now. It's not your fault, and you didn't do anything wrong. I just…" He looks up to the florescent lights, then down to his hands. Studying his right arm a bit, he takes a deep breath and returns to Roy's gaze. "I'm kind of in a weird place right now, so excuse me if I'm not as talkative today."

"Are you-"

"I promise that I'm okay," he almost laughs. _Well, I'm on my way there at least._ "And yes, we're still on for Saturday." When Ed sees Roy visibly relax, he feels a pang of guilt for making him think otherwise. "What I need right now is for you to sit back and prepare to get the most amazing tattoo of your life, okay?"

Understanding the need for minimal conversation, Roy nods. Neither of them speaks once Ed's machine starts. As much as Roy wants to say something, he knows that he can't break Ed's unyielding focus. He needs to let him do his job.

Ed starts slowly, giving the greatest attention to each stroke. Empty and plain, the lines on Roy's chest desperately need depth and life. Each wing feather needs care to be able to fly. The dull blade of the knife requires sharpening, lethality, under Ed's hand. The dormant flames yearn to awaken on Roy's skin.

Roy's acute awareness of Ed's hands on him makes his heart race. Even though the needles burn as they dig into his skin, it does not compare to sensation of Ed's hands roaming his chest as they hold, wipe, and explore. There is a different kind of tension today, as Ed not once looks up at him as he's working. Roy almost wishes that he would so he could get a better read on him. But then again, if Roy looks him in the eyes while he's the subject of such intense concentration, he wouldn't know how to stop himself from kissing him right there, needles be damned.

Ed finds great comfort in Roy's complicity in their silence. Not that he doesn't want to talk to Roy, but he needs this. A human canvas is a well of energy. For Roy to sit back and let Ed create without distraction allows him to feel this energy, to transfer it from himself to the canvas and back again. His canvas breathes and reacts, and that makes the art satisfying. Tattoos are permanent stamps on the passport of someone's life. Ed provides a product that remains with his canvases forever, and the gratitude he feels for being, in some way, permanent to someone overwhelms him in the best way.

As hours go by into the tattoo, Ed starts to realize that even if this doesn't work out with Roy, he is still going to be a part of his life in some way as long as he's living. Even if everything goes to shit, Ed will have still made a mark on Roy's life by giving him this tattoo for his fallen friend. At the thought of this, his heart warms. It's a start.

Before long, Ed finds himself finishing up the final touches of Roy's piece. Stepping back to assess, he knows that this is some of his best work. He wipes away the access ink with solution, putting the towel and his gloves on the tray. And for the first time since he started the session, he allows his eyes to trail up to Roy's face. He can't help but smile at what he sees.

Roy is staring into Ed's eyes, completely filled with awe. He had seen not only the evolution of the tattoo, but the evolution of Ed's demeanor as he worked his way out of himself. With every stroke of his machine, Ed slowly came back to life. The air was no longer thick, and his smile was no longer empty; it was full of color and gratitude and life.

Wordlessly, Ed takes Roy's hand to lead him to the full-length mirror at the other end of the store. He waits patiently for Roy to look over the finished product.

Roy's hands fly up to cover his mouth as he takes everything in. The knife gleams as if its sharp edges could cut through steel. The wings are so detailed and realistic that he can feel his heart soar. Even the fire feels warm. Hughes's very spirit has been captured right on top of his heart, and he feels overcome with the rawness and the realness of his best friend's presence within him. Turning to Ed, he outstretches his arms and embraces him. "Thank you," he says, his voice low and unsteady.

Roy's relief becomes Ed's own. He hugs back, wrapping his arms around him. "You're welcome, Roy."

Roy steps back, giving a slight cough to try and gather himself. His hands comb through his hair as he looks in the mirror once more. "Ed, you've outdone yourself. This is, wow. This is incredible."

"Pretty badass, huh? I didn't saturate it too much with color, but the shading is what really makes the details pop. I wanted to make sure I got this right."

"It's more than right. It's perfect." Roy looks at Ed again. _There's light in those eyes again._ He smiles from ear to ear, happiness seeming to radiate from his pores.

 _Fuck, that smile. I've got to make sure I get this right, too._ Without a word, Ed takes Roy's hands and pulls him close, giving him a small kiss. Even this small contact makes his body sing.

The tender, quiet moment between them is magic to Roy. They both cherish the moment for what it is: not a promise of something more, nor an indication of anything less. It's a moment of affection, sweet and harmless and good, between two strangers just starting to figure each other out.


End file.
